Wander, Think and Freefall
by CampionSayn
Summary: Let us consider times Kurt Darkholme interacted with Kitty Pryde and didn't reject her. AKA, the universe where Darkholme didn't die. High 'T' for hinted nudity and such.


Title: Wander and Think and Freefall  
Summary: Let us consider times Kurt Darkholme interacted with Kitty Pryde and didn't reject her. AKA, the universe where Darkholme didn't die.  
Warning: Spawned from my anger, this might or might not be attached to any of my other Kurtty D. fics and is based within the time frame before after the Hellfire Academy arc. Blood, swearing, hinted sex, fluff.  
Dedication: This particular fic goes out to the ANON that made me so angry a little while ago that I felt like my head was going to explode. I publish my 200th fic, feeling especially pleased with myself when I go back to find a review left within twenty-four hours, open it and then _**BAM**_! It's not a review, it's a long, drawn out reason why I should bother to support the _whiny little __**B!73H**_ that is _Scott_ _Summers_. IT WAS A KURTTY DARKHOLME FIC; IS ANYONE AWARE HOW HARD THOSE ARE TO WRITE?! I could not care LESS about friggin' CYCLOPS! …But, at least your nuisance produced _something_, you cretinous yahoo.

Also, a mad tea party and the crown jewels for **musicfan13** for being such a nice person in helping my self-esteem through this. And to** Kirra kills**, who always delights-loosely-in this coupling.

* * *

_-:-  
Just because I can't prove it, doesn't mean it isn't true.  
-Zodiac._

* * *

i.

Her presence isn't as uncomfortable to be near as Darkholme thought it would be. Not with her saving his hide from disintegrating between two plains of existence with that ability to make a ghost of herself; no, not too uncomfortable.

But then she steps away from him once they're back on the ground, Logan yelling about taking too much of a risk and the kids need their Headmistress and—"Where the hell you think you're goin', Half-pint?"

"Nightcrawler's tail in broken in three places and that's a nasty cut above his eye. Stitches seem pertinent. He's not like you and Deadpool, Logan."

ii.

There was a fight and there was a Christmas party and he knew there was alcohol involved, that much he can remember as he woke up with legs twined around and between thin peach skinned legs, his tail around the stomach of the girl-woman he often didn't much care for. From the smell and look of the bed they were in, he was certain that they were in Kitty's room.

(_"Why are you such an asshole?"_

_"Why can't you keep to your own business, woman?")_

_Blinking open red eyes—and, oh, how she delighted in squinting and blinking back confusion every time she expected yellow—Darkholme took in a breath and Miss Pryde's brown hair breezed up and a piece stuck to his mouth; a piece like waxy spiderweb once it outlived its usefulness. His head flinched backwards and he spat the brown off of his tongue, hands letting go of her shoulders so he could pick out three hairs that had detached from her head and got stuck in his saliva._

_An unfortunate side effect of his thick fingers touching his own tongue was the taste of his own stale semen and Kitty's vaginal fluid; the repugnant scent and taste making him gag on reflex with nausea that would always come from also being hungover._

_(His nails dug in skin at the hip of the woman under him, her small whimper encouraging him to adjust pressure and continue with the rhythm that had synced up to after she had bit into the skin of his neck and left ear hard enough to draw blood. When he brought his mouth down to return the favor of teeth in flesh and drawn blood he could smell violets and bergamot that reminded him of being back home—Danger Room sessions that took place before his and sweat decorating floor and ceiling and walls. It enflamed his sense of smell and his tail came into play at the entrance of her mouth and the orifice that would require him to wash his tail spade later on._)

iii.

She cannot stop crying when Kurt Wagner comes back from death in that horribly white-white-white robe and cannot stop apologizing for her behavior after the pleasant (yellow-eyed, youngblood, soft pelt) man notices Darkholme and seems torn between being angry at Logan for Darkholme's existence and telling Pryde that she shouldn't cry for being kind.

In the end, Wagner greets Darkholme with a handshake and gratitude for helping X-Force and staying with the Jean Grey school even after the secret group had officially disbanded after Logan's brat's death. It makes Darkholme want to smack the younger man for being so forgiving and insufferably _understanding_ that he bamfs away to another location of the school (_that high, lonely place with strong trees full of leaves to cover up the sun's attempt at giving light to the ground, the shade allowing Kurt to be less heated by weather as he just sits and contemplates_) and waits for evening to descend.

(_"I know that it's freaking weird that Kurt's back and that you'll be seeing more of each other, but… You're not the same person; you have different souls."_

_It almost feels like she's illustrating the word 'soul' as her fingers fiddle with the David's Star around her neck, blue nail polish complimenting the silver metal in her attempt at bringing the older mutant back inside before all the food for dinner vanishes into the children's stomachs rather than letting himself go to sleep chilled and in ill temper because he didn't eat before sleeping._

_His nose wrinkled and his teeth showed, "Does that comfort you when he's in there, glad to be back and you're out here trying to coax me inside like some stray cat?"_)

iv.

The Bamfs had assisted Wagner in coming back from beyond the veil of death, as they had promised they would do for the saintly, demonic looking man, and yet they lingered around the school and in the X-Cave and around Pryde like they didn't know what else to do.

Normally, Darkholme would not be bothered by this, but when the gremlins kept teleporting him from one place to another (_from using the shower, from dressing in the morning, from training with Logan and Deadpool and Wagner—always unexpected and affronted greatly when it happens three days in a row and Darkholme can't do a damn thing about the manipulative little shits_) that always involved Kitty in some way (_funny how he had mentally started to refer to her like a friend after he had seen her training in the Danger Room at such a high level with a mutation that seemed mostly for defense than anything else; after he had seen her scold Manuel Enduque and succeed in making the brat wash dishes as a punishment for sucking face with Max Frankenstein in the hallway and flipping her off for interrupting them; and after the Bamfs had teleported them both into mid-air a mile above the school and left them falling down like they were trying to do __**something**_…) he started getting suspicious and actually asked for assistance from Wagner.

The yellow eyes that Darkholme still couldn't seem to get used to (_when confronted, it was like looking into a mirror, until yellow met red and a jolt through blood and bone that was emotion and something not precious but almost not worth ignoring crept into the both of them at once_) just seemed confused at Darkholme's questions on the gremlins' intentions and before his mouth is fully open to give his answer in German (_it is nice, Darkholme and Wagner both admit freely, to speak with someone that doesn't butcher the language and it is almost like exchanging twin-speak_) while still working on his agility in the X-Cave in quiet, the Bamfs appear again (AGAIN-AGAIN-AGAIN—how is this possible?!) and teleport the scarred mutant to the kitchens.

He is met with the sound of glass breaking on the tiled floor with bits of the debris dropping and splashing in some liquid, before he stiffens at a squeak resounding inside his head-throat-chest—and Pryde slips through him and the kitchen isle and braces against the fridge.

He takes a step back and cringes more at his left foot (_there is no spandex body suit; there was no mission today and his feet are bare of shoes as he often enjoys when not working and after getting comfortable in the school_) stepping in the milk puddle with glass fragments slipping around in the white and then sneaking and painful into his skin.

Two Bamfs cringed from where they sat on the counter to Kitty's left as they saw Darkholme's blood in the milk and their ears flickered backward as he cursed vehemently in German while Kitty went to grab some napkins.


End file.
